


Mamma Mia

by pantykinksam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s12e02 Mamma Mia, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Slash, episode rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8521012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantykinksam/pseuds/pantykinksam
Summary: Redo ep of 12.02 Mamma Mia with a wincest kick that I think we all needed.Plus, you know, I wrote Dean as if he gave a shit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Sam is rescued by Dean and Mary, he wakes from the hallucination in a basement, with Toni taunting him. What makes this time any different?

"For me?" Just... You being here fills in the biggest blank."

The words echoed across empty walls and back again. Sam's heart was pounding in his throat and its dryness was crippling. It was too hot, stifling. Sam felt sticky and shaky under Mary's gaze yet his skin was bone-dry if a little clammy and his expression stoic, save for the look in his eyes. And then she was smiling up at him, glassy-eyed and looking so full to bursting with love for him that Sam went weak, clinging to her in the lamplight with his hands scrunched up in her robe. Sam shuddered and tensed in her arms so as not to crumple to his knees. 

It was still unbearably hot, fervid bursts of heat searing Sam's skin and boiling his brain but he felt none of it. He was hit with an overwhelming sense of peace and relief, all he'd ever wanted in his three decades on this earth having been handed to him on a platter in a matter of hours. He pressed his nose into her skin and held on for dear life.

Sam closed his eyes, grounded for the first time in probably his entire life excluding Stanford, and his heart started to ache. He felt it deep in his chest, a new kind of burn - worse than the last. 

Sam tugged Mary closer, gasping for air but his lungs were on fire, like his ribs were being branded all over again. He choked, cut off from air at the extent of the pain and he pushed away from his mother hissing and scrabbling at his chest. The heat made its way down his torso and he fumbled at his shirt, trying to tear it from his body to relieve some of the heat but the pain was unrelenting. He seized, falling back with a cut off whimper, eyes wide in terror.

"Sam? Sam - Honey, What's wrong?" Mary advanced, reached out to touch him and Sam reared back, his head colliding hard enough with the door frame to knock him out of consciousness.

"Sam? Sam." 

Sam woke upright and tied to a chair, head reeling and desperate for a full breath. He wheezed, hacking into his lap. He spat fresh blood onto his jeans and moaned. 

"Ah, there ya go." 

A British accent echoed in his eardrums. Sam growled, tossing his head in distaste. Big mistake. His skull felt heavy, too big for his neck to support and it lolled to the side. He blinked twice, disoriented. His eyes landed on the blond chick in front of him and he froze until instinct set in and he went to reach out and grab the blade from out of her hands - only to find his arms fastened together behind his back.

It came back to him quickly, after that. Dean's death, his capture, then his torture, then the hallucinations... the real good stuff. That feeling after you wake up in your bed from a really good dream and look around only to be reminded that none of it is at all possible, and you're stuck with the world as you know it? Sam's never felt that feeling so amplified before. 

Realization poured over him and he went pale, numb with defeat. "You-"

"I had you quite well for a moment there, wouldn't you say?"

"You-" Speechless, he searched for an explanation, mind entirely blank other than the fact that he'd just been punk'd by the same British bitch for the second time.

“I’ve got to say, Sam. I’d have thought you’d have it figured out by now.” 

Toni sauntered over to him, tapping a syringe of some kind of blue liquid against her palm. 

Sam squinted, heart racing and head throbbing. 

“Djinn poison, Sam. Oldest trick in the book, yeah? I’m sure you’re quite familiar with this one. Hallucinations may boil your brain, but Djinn poison will only melt at its edges a little. Let’s begin again, shall we?”

Sam struggled in his restraints, foggy-brained and barely conscious enough to fight back anyway, so when the needle struck his thigh, it was no surprise when he clocked out again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's been losing sleep, worrying about his brother. It's about time they got a lead.

Dean tossed against his sheets, groaning. It had only been a couple of days, but Dean was starting to feel the effects of days without food or rest - his energy was completely drained and he knew from experience that it wouldn't be back up again until Sam was back home, safe. He huffed and slipped out into the hallway to check the phone for a call from Cas. This had gone on long enough.

No call. Dean slumped back into an armchair and reached for a half-empty tumbler on the desk side after a quick dial of Castiel's cell.

"Cas, hey. Any, uh- Don't suppose you've had any luck on finding Sammy, huh?"

"I have no new information so far."

"Right, okay. Awesome. Well keep lookin', alright? Who knows where the kid is at this point, what they're doing to him, and we've gotta do-"

"Yes, understood."

"What?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Well- try to understand harder!" Dean slammed his finger on End Call and tossed his phone to the floor where it skidded under a chair. He drained his drink and rubbed his tired eyes with the heel of his hand. "Damnit, baby. Where the hell are you?" he muttered to himself

 

"Dean?"

Dean started, reflexes bringing his hand to his right pocket, where he panicked to realize his gun was back in his room - their room, really. 

"Mom?" He sighed, shaking his head of all previous worry. "I didn't," he cleared his throat "I didn't wake you up, right?"

Mary smiled sadly at her feet with a shake of her head. "I never fell asleep."

Dean rose to seat her in the chair beside his, one hand against her back. "Can't sleep either, huh?"

"It's... Sam. It's my first day back as the mother of my sons and I can't even get one of my boys back home safely."

Dean wiped his palms on his pant legs, suddenly nervous. There wasn't a lot he could say to that.

"Look, mom. I know Sammy better than the guy knows himself. If anyone can take whatever he's going through, it's Sam. 'Sides," he gulped. "We're gonna get him back."

Dean just had to do some self-convincing of his own on that one.

 

The floor lit up in the dark of the lounge room and the sound of buzzing had Mary on high alert and clutching the arms of her chair until Dean reached for his phone underneath it, shrugging apologetically her way. "It's a hunting buddy." he mouthed, raising the phone to his ear once again.

"Jaxon, hey, now's not the best-"

"We think we've found him, Dean."

Dean balked, blinking bright in the dark.

"Dean? You there, man?"

"Yeah, uh. Sorry. You know where Sam is?" 

Mary stood abruptly and he held up a finger and then signaled for a pen and paper. She hurriedly complied.

"Well I mean, we think so. Seems pretty likely. Big white farmhouse in the middle'o nowhere, rented out by some British lady."

"Address, Jax, now."

Mary's face lit up in hope and she darted around the corner and came back with her coat. She tossed Dean the keys and he caught them one-handed, cellphoned-ear to his shoulder as he buttoned up his shirt. 

Once he'd called Cas for backup and loaded up the car, they were skidding down the pavement in Sam's direction.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is rescued, for real this time.

A wide band of light spread across the murky basement flooring, and Sam peered in the dark, his eyes strained. He hears a muffled grunt and two sets of footsteps down the stairs. Sam cocked his head, senses on high alert. 

The figures loomed into view and he made out Toni's figure, the first sign of her since three days ago when she'd shot him up with his most recent dose of djinn poison. And another was with her, heavier footsteps, wider stance. Sam squinted, apparently still delirious, because the man beside her looked like...

"Dean?" 

Another grunt as Toni's companion was pushed forward into the light. "Hey, baby." 

Sam shook his head, trying to shake the illusion out of his eyes.

"Believe me, I'm just as surprised to see him as you." Toni's voice made Sam grit his teeth and he brought his thumb to the palm of his left hand out of old habit from his time with the devil riding shotgun in his skull, and dug into old scar tissue, hard. To his dismay, there was no flicker in the scene in front of him. This was one hallucination he'd just have to bear down and take, no matter how devastating it was to see Dean standing before him.

"And just as happy as you, too," she continued, "Because while you may be able to withstand my snapping apart your body joint by joint, can you watch it happen to Dean?"

Sam whimpered, frantically looking between Toni and his brother. So, she was finally figuring out how to make him crack. Took her long enough, scrounging around in his brain for so long. Sam wasn't sure how much of this he could take, especially if he started to get lost in the hallucination. He took a sharp breath and dug into his palm again for extra measure, for comfort. No luck. He just had to keep reminding himself it wasn't real, this wasn't Dean, because Dean was...

Dead. Dead, and Sam had let it happen. 

"Dean" was chained up to Sam's left, who was watching him, bewildered. None of the other hallucinations had involved so much of reality in their settings. How was she planning on getting information out of him with this one? Toni stalked off up the stairs and "Dean" turned to look at Sam.

"Sammy? You hangin' in there, little brother? Look, mom's-"

"Shut. Up." Sam gritted his teeth, eyes squeezed shut.

Dean stared back, unblinking. "What?"

"I said, shut UP." Sam writhed in his bonds, thrashing his head. "Dead. You're dead."

"What- Sam, I'm right here, it worked, I'm fine." 

Sam's ears were ringing and his blood was churning. "Screw you, Toni." He spat, looking away. "I don't break easy." 

"Sammy- Sam! Look, you gotta look at me, man. We're gonna get outta here, okay, you just gotta trust me-"

The door opened again and in came Toni, this time a long knife in her palm. Sam's stomach churned and he grimaced in enmity. 

She walked over to Dean with dark eyes that flashed bright on her blade. 

"...Parts of the body most sensitive to intense pain. The ear drum. Decaying tooth. Below the belt, of course. And my favorite - under the eyelid. Did you know it's possible to die from pain?"

Dean's voice - the real Dean's - echoed in Sam's head from years ago. 'Come on. Let it go, okay? Let it go, brother.'

And Sam did. He turned away, and drowned it out, desparate for a way out of his head, a way to override the system and send himself reeling back to reality, because there was no way this was- 

"Sammy!"

Sam was startled into focus by the sound of Dean's voice, an old weakness. His eyes met a third mystery figure, one with a gun to Toni's head and a merciless look in her eyes.

"Get away from my boys."

"Mom?" What was Toni hoping to get out of him by bringing his dead mother into the equation? He'd hardly ever known her.

"Shoulda just stuck with using Dean..." He muttered. Toni might've got somewhere with those, he supposed.

There were a few gunshots, some shattered glass and a few punches thrown, and then Mary was on her knees and clutching her throat. 

Sam's head was spinning and he couldn't focus on one thing for more than a few seconds, not that he minded. His vision wasn't too great in the lighting and he could barely make out the scene in front of him, but "Dean's" voice rang out in the chaos. Remarkable attention to detail, these hallucinations.

"Kill the spell, now." 

"Shoot me, and your mother has no chance." Mary was still gagging on the floor, and Sam was reminded of the first time he'd hallucinated this rescue scene, how Toni had manipulated him into trying to save his mother only to end up holding her as she died. He wasn't going to be so easily swayed this time. He could get through this one more time.

Some guy - Mick, Sam pieced together between two of his near-blackouts, - appeared in the middle of the mayhem with Cas which was a new twist that he had to had to Toni. The bitch had remarkable creativity. 

A blow to the face and Toni was out cold, and suddenly the chains were off of Sam in a matter of seconds.

"Jesus, Sammy." Sam felt himself being hauled to his feet and cradled in familiar arms like a broken valuable, fingers in his mangy hair and lips to his neck. This was new. 

"Not... Real." 

"God, Sam, I- look, how many times have we talked about this? Look at me, kid. You know the drill."

Dean's hand found an open wound in Sam's chest, courtesy of Toni's little henchwoman, and he dug in with his thumb, hard. Sam lurched, the pain in his chest enough for him to grip onto Dean, who visibly relaxed, but it still wasn't enough to convince Sam.

"Not... Anymore. Doesn't... Mean anything with... Djinn p..."

"Djinn? Sam, what djinn? What the hell are you-" 

It dawned on Dean, flickered right across his face. "Fuck. Open up, Sam, lemme see." Dean flashed his phone flashlight across Sam's eyes, which shone blue in the intruding light. Dean cursed. "Poison. She fuckin' poisoned you. Damn it, okay, here's what's gonna happen."

Sam was dragged towards the door by his best arm, tripping over his lame leg, and wincing with each step. 

“Mom, can you help me out here?” Mary scampered to Dean’s side to help him boost Sam up the stairs without hesitation. “Once we get him out to the car,” Dean growled, “I need the blue bag to the far left of the trunk. Er, please.” Dean added, eying her raised eyebrow once before giving Sam a final shove up the last step. 

“Alright, Sammy. Gonna give you a dose o’this, you’ll be alright, start thinkin’ clearly again, right?” Dean waved the bottle of antidote in Sam’s eyes in the back of the Impala, street signs passing by in a flash. Dean had asked Mary to drive so he could settle into the back with Sam underneath him, bundled in a dozen blankets, wounds dressed hastily and his head cradled in Dean’s arm. 

Sam, still out of it, murmured something in-comprehensive. “Aw, shit, Sam. Friggin’ delirious, kid. Drink up.” Dean tilted Sam’s chin towards the ceiling and helped him down the concoction, Mary’s eyes on them from the front seat the entire way. Sam choked it down, gasping. “There ya go, little brother, that's a boy.”

“How’s he holding up?” The worry in Mary’s voice didn’t go unnoticed by Dean and he kept his voice steady when he answered. 

“He’s hangin’ in there, he’ll pull through.” Dean straddled Sam’s waist and propped his head up against the door, draping him with a precautionary blanket and dropping a subtle kiss on his forehead, hidden from Mary’s sight in the rear-view, and they drove on.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back home again, at last.

“You awake, kiddo?” Soft lips were pressed to Sam’s and he roused in the dark of Dean’s bedroom - theirs’, he corrected himself - under familiar sheets in even more familiar arms. Memory filtered through the cracks in Sam’s thoughts and he jumped up, wincing at the pull at his stitching. He’d never reawoken into a hallucination before, but anything was possible.

“You’re- Look, I know you’re not-” 

Dean kissed him to cut off his protests of reality, hands holding his shoulders down and rooting him to the bedsheets. He pressed their foreheads together and breathed against Sam’s lips. “Nah, Sammy. No more of that. S’me. Really.” 

Sam’s brow furrowed. He searched Dean’s face for any trace of doubt. Dean traced his jaw with delicate fingers, eyes never leaving his, never blinking. He stood fast, showing Sam all of his trust and letting him decide what was real and what wasn't. 

“S’you?” It was barely a whisper but Dean got the message, a slow nod masking his excitement of Sam's progress remarkably well.

“Yeah, kid.”

“But you’re- You’re dead!” 

Dean snorted, tucked Sam’s hair behind his ear. “Guess it didn’t work out that way.” 

Sam’s eyes burned at the lump in his throat and he swallowed hard, looked down and tried to reel himself back in. “Hey, lookit me. S’okay, brother, m’good. And yeah, this is it.” Dean squeezed Sam’s hand, “ I couldn’t be more real and less illusion right now.”

The speed of Sam’s hug was too fast to calculate, so Dean just let him cling to him. Dean’s lungs let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding in and he stroked Sam’s hair, soothing and rhythmic and he just let the boy cry. 

It was unusual, sure, for a guy like Sam to cry over something so seemingly insignificant as closure like this, especially after decades in hell as Lucifer’s vessel himself, but Dean was never a typical case for Sam anyway, and Dean never minded. He only pulled the kid closer to his chest and laid with him until he fell asleep against him.

 

“Is he… is he sleeping?” Mary’s voice carried through the closed door and Dean jerked, flinching when Sam stirred beside him. He carefully slipped away by a few inches before he answered to be sure it wasn’t what it looked like. “Uh, yeah. You can… come in, you know. If you want. He’s pretty out of it.”

The door opened soundlessly, save for the click of the doorknob, and Mary sat at the edge of the bed with a sigh. She turned towards Sam, peaceful and painless-looking in the serenity of Dean’s bed, who felt a rush of pride at his mother taking in the sight of his brother like that, someone else there to marvel at Sam and appreciate his beauty and thank the heavens for his safety. Someone who wanted him safe, would do anything for him, had done it. Like a weight had been lifted from Dean’s shoulders. He looked away, embarrassed to feel as though he were looking in on something private.

Hesitantly, Mary reached up to pet Sam’s bicep, eyes sad and someplace else altogether, far away. 

“You said he made it out of hunting for a while?”

“Yeah. Yeah, for a little while. But, well, you know.”

Mary turned to Dean and rested her hand on his knee. “Yeah. I know.” 

Dean blinked, swallowing hard. “I’m uh- I mean, I’m glad he came back around.”

“Yeah. Me too.” 

When Sam woke up again, Dean was gone. A stirring form in the chair in front of him told him he wasn’t alone, either.

A tangled mess of blond hair fell over a slow-breathing mound, and Sam held his own breath. “Mom?”

Mary was one part of the past few days Sam would need time to work out - the final piece in determining how this whole series of events wouldn’t just leave him panting in a basement with Toni standing over him. He’d definitely seen his mother when Dean was getting him out of there, but he was still pretty sure Mary was just an effect of the toxins. 

Whoever it was, she looked like she was sleeping. Sam couldn’t see her face through so many blankets. He frowned. He debated whether or not to try to walk over and investigate further, but he had no plan for what he would do if it wasn’t who he thought it was. He couldn’t so much as throw a punch then, and he had yet to try standing. Instead, alert, he reached for his phone, loyally set on the bedside table by Dean, and dialed his number.

“Sammy? Sam, where are you?” 

Sam weakly bit back a laugh. “S’okay, Dean, I’m okay. Upstairs. You wanna… You wanna come up here for a sec?” Afraid to give too much away in case he set off the supposed intruder, he snaked an arm under the pillow to search for Dean’s gun. 

“Yeah- yeah, okay. Everything-?”

“I’m fine, Dean. Could you just-?” Sam whispered.

“Be right up, right, sorry.”

“Thanks. And Dean? Be quiet.”

Each of Dean’s booted steps clunking up two dozen steps wasn’t exactly quiet, but Sam knew his brother would choose quick over subtle surprise when it came to a possible rescue anyway. The guy was so impulsive. Sam clutched the gun tighter and kept his eyes on the sleeping figure, afraid to look away until Dean came to meet him by the bed. 

“Hey, s’going on?”

Wordlessly, Sam nodded toward the door where the chair held the sleeping woman, his grip still tight on the gun beneath the blanket. Dean followed his stare, prepared for some kind of altercation or intruder or something. Upon realization of Sam’s little problem, Dean's face lit up, slow little smile creeping across his face until he was snickering and then full-body laughing. 

Sam gave Dean an odd look, unamused and more curious than ever now. "What the fuck's so funny, Dean?"

Dean shook his head, laughter dying down as he tamed Sam's wild bedhead and kissed his temple. "It's okay." He laughed again, pulled Sam closer to the side of the bed. "Oh man, baby. You'll never guess who came to visit."

"Lemme guess," Sam gulped, eyes on Mary. "That's..."

"Mom, Sam, it's-" he chuckled like he hadn't reached the punchline until now. "It's our mom, little brother."

Sam stared at him blankly, drawing out the hidden gun. "Again. What the fuck, Dean?"

 

Dean hissed, snatching it away from Sam and throwing it under the carpet. "Jesus, Sam! Put it away, man!" He grabbed Sam's hand and signaled for him to wait there.

 

"Mom? Dean crept towards her chair and rested a hand on her back. "Hey, Mom, Sam's awake." 

In a frenzy of wild hair and waving limbs Mary flung herself off of the chair, prepared to throw Dean down. "Easy, easy! Hey, look! Look, Sam's up."

There was a moment of tension in the air as Mary, disoriented and exhausted, looked back at Dean in confusion. She relaxed when she met Sam's eyes, awestruck and staring at her so intensely she burned under the pressure.

"Mom?" It's barely above a whisper, croaked and hoarse from hours without use after days of screaming. 

"Hi, baby." 

Instinctively, Sam reached for his brother to pull him closer into the sheets, hands clutching Dean's jacket. Dean held him in silence, rocking him head-to-chest. It's too much, he knows it, especially after the events of the week, but Sam had to see, had to know it was Mary, real and in the flesh. 

Dean stroked Sam's hair and pulled his head up so he can meet his eyes, Sam's dark eyelashes brimmed with briny tears. Dean wiped one lone tear from his pale cheek and kissed it's trail lightly.

"S'okay. I told ya, s'really her." Sam's hands clenched and unclenched against Dean's coat, and when he looked up, Mary was kneeling beside him on the floor, watching him like she wasn't ready to blink in case it meant it was all a dream. 

 

"Hi, Sam." 

***

No one breathes. The world is a blur around them, everything they'd ever fought for, are still fighting for, all right out there in front of them, and Sam is seeing it for the first time in over thirty years. Dean feels Sam's heartbeat in the pulse of his neck where he's let his hands fall, and he traces Sam's cheek lightly, looks him dead on until he's sure the boy knows there's nothing but love, pure adoration in his eyes. And yeah, part of him tells him he's crossing a line, like he's letting Mary in on their little secret with every touch, but when he looks over to Mary, there's no judgement in her stare. 

Sam gets it, eventually. It's a slow build, but when he finally takes it all in, really looks at Mary, he knows. It's really her.

"Hi, Mom." 

Mary's crying when she reaches for Sam's hand, presses a kiss to his knuckles and whispers "God, I'm so proud of you."

Dean chokes back a sob, clutches Sam into his chest and smiles into his hair. That's really all he's ever wanted his brother to hear, from someone other than him. He looks to Mary gratefully but she's got her eyes on Sam, stroking his wrist, and Sam's smiling back, big bright grin of his lighting up Dean's world all over again and then Dean's laughing into Sam's skin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess I've decided to embellish a little more. Enjoy !!

There was a lot to be answered, and it would take time, Dean knew, but he wasn't ready to face any of it yet. He hadn't realized how hard it would hit him to watch Sam meet Mary face-to-face for the first time since before his brother had reached one year of life on this Earth, but once he had Sam in his arms again, safe - this time for sure - his walls came crashing down. Mary noticed - nothing had gotten past her since she'd woken up topside and three decades into the future. She'd left her boys in their bed to "mull things over" and crept out of the room. 

 

“So.” Sam let his head fall against the pillowcase. He looked up at Dean, whose upright position made him look sideways in Sam’s perception. As if on cue, Dean stirred and turned on his side so he was facing Sam eye-to-eye on the mattress. Sam blinked back at him, bright eyes still tinged with blue from the after effects of the djinn toxin, but still Sam’s nonetheless. 

 

“So.” Dean murmured, tucking Sam’s matted hair off of his forehead, who closed his eyes. He shuddered, and Dean snickered. 

 

“Feels good.” Dean smiled sadly and let his hand fall to his side again. 

 

“I almost lost ya back there, huh, kid?” 

 

Sam’s eyes snapped open and he frowned. He traced Dean’s jaw with the side of his hand and took a shaky breath. “I’m fine now, Dean.” 

 

Dean’s eyes slipped closed and he shivered, hard. Sam’s eyes were burning into him and he didn’t have to be looking at his brother to know it. He felt short of breath all of a sudden, and he breathed a big gulp of air. “What would I have-”

 

Sam’s rough fingertips passed over Dean’s lips and then his own mouth was ghosting over them, and Dean rose to meet him, with his eyes still closed tight, teeth meeting first. He wasted no time licking Sam’s mouth open, remapping his brother like he wasn’t sure he wasn’t still about to lose him. Sam whimpered, tongue behind Dean’s teeth and his hands clasped tight in Dean’s uncut mess of hair. “I’m-” he gasped, in between nips at Dean’s mouth “Not... going... anywhere. Y’’hear?” 

 

Dean wasn’t hearing any of it and he ducked back down to draw Sam back to his mouth, panting. Sam put his hands to his brother’s chest and shoved, as if he was really going to try to pull Dean off of him, like he wasn’t just as desperate to feel him against him again. Reluctantly, Dean pulled back, licking his lips, spit-shining and cherry-picked red. 

 

“As much as I’d… love to waste the day away making out with you, brother… We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

 

Dean held his jaw gently, cupping it in one hand to tilt it up and reveal the sweat-slick sheen of Sam’s neck, pale and shining, and Dean was hit with the overwhelming smell of Sam. He pressed tender kisses at the softest part at the base of his neck, and Sam gasped, hardly audible, then groaned and tried to turn away. “De… Come on. Are we ever gonna talk about… Jesus… Mom?”

 

“Not right now, if I can help it.” 

Sam opened his mouth to retort, but he was met with Dean’s tongue licking at its corners and muffling any answer he had coming. He let himself revel in it for a little while, kissing Dean with a different kind of tenderness. Sam exhaled through his nose and rolled his eyes. 

 

His arms reached up to tangle around Dean’s neck, simultaneously keeping him close and keeping him at bay while Dean tugged him in by his waist. 

 

“Dean.” It was stern, demanding, and combined with that look in his eyes, Dean caved immediately.

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fine, okay, what do you wanna know?” He huffed against Sam’s earlobe, mouthing at it just to watch his brother squirm. 

 

Sam snorted and went in for another kiss, self control abandoned, a hopeless case. “Where do I start?” 

 

There was a soft rap at the door and Mary’s soft voice rang out, “Boys? I made some waffles, f’you’re up for it. I know it’s probably been awhile since Sam’s had anything, and I guess I figured we could talk.” 

 

Dean winked at Sam, broad grin spreading across his face. He mouthed “Dude, waffles”, but what he meant was “Saved by the bell”. 

 

Sam rolled his eyes, dazed and distant, like hearing Mary’s voice took him off the map and left him far-off and lost in his own thoughts. Dean loved every second of it. He squeezed Sam’s hand. “Sure, Mom, Sam would kill for some.”


End file.
